


and the heart is hard to translate (it has a language of its own)

by ere_the_sun_rises



Series: Esther on Ice [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Boston, Character Study, F/M, Introspection, Other, Personal Growth, Plans For The Future, Relationship Study, World Figure Skating Championships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-02-26 04:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13228545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ere_the_sun_rises/pseuds/ere_the_sun_rises
Summary: An exploration of Esther's relationships, set against the backdrop of Worlds.





	1. foreword: Emanuel

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 2018! This is a short fic I decided to do to explore some of the more important people in Esther's life, and her state of mind at this particular point in time. It isn't meant to be a catch-all, in that sense; it's only the relationships that are undergoing significant phases that will be getting attention, so if it seems like important people are missing--there are, and that's why. At any rate, I hope you all enjoy, and that your year is as good as you can make it.

“All right, control, control, go in fast, keep it tight, now _snap!”_

Esther whipped into the turn, let her speed carry her through her next arc, and tensed for the jump. She could tell by the whoop alone that she’d landed it well, but she stuck through to the end of the routine before she skated to the edge.

“That was the best you’ve ever landed it,” he said, nearly breathless. “You understand what I’m saying, yes? If you’ve ever seen a marching formation; their turns are like a whip cracking.”

“Typically, they don’t like seeing that,” Esther leaned on the partition, taking a swig from her water bottle.

“It’s the high point of your routine. If _they_ are thinking about their preapproved types of performance on the ice, then you’re doing something wrong.”

Esther smiled, took another sip. “How’s the hunt going?”

He blinked. “Ah! For students, you mean. Of course. I’ve almost made my decisions; I’ll know for certain by the end of this month. I’ll have to start early enough to be ready for next season in time.”

She sighed. “Next season? It’s kinda crazy to think this one’s almost over. I don’t know if I’m gonna have any idea what to do with myself for the next few months.”

“You’ll have plenty to think about. From what I’ve heard, you certainly have no shortage of plans. Before you know it, we’ll be getting ready for the Grand Prix again.”

Esther smiled, and Emanuel did too; for a moment, they stood in quiet contemplation. _We really have come a long way, haven’t we?_ In a matter of days, their partnership would be a year old. A year since she’d stepped back on the ice, since she’d found the impossible courage to say _I’m not giving up on this yet._ Now, she had three gold medals to show for it, hanging up on the wall in their apartment, and she wondered sometimes if she would even recognize herself a year ago, if she were to come across her walking down the street.

And it was only the beginning.

“All right,” he took a deep breath, patting absently at the wall. “That’s enough for today, I think.” She knew him well enough, by now, to know he had a lot on his mind, but she held her tongue for the time being—none of them would be things Emanuel the Coach would discuss with her. So she waited, allowed silence to permeate the car ride home and the walk up the stairs.

Patience proved advantageous, as she had part of her answer without even asking him anything. The table was strewn with papers covered in his tiny, meticulous handwriting; pages of information on potential students, their names, ages, past experience and goals. There was a stack off to the side, and when she leafed through those, Esther knew them right away for the rejects pile. Answers like _I want to be a famous athlete_ and _I’m good at skating_ abounded. In the mess scattered before his habitual chair, the small essays sang a different tune: _there’s a beauty in this that touches something deep inside of me; when I’m out on the ice, everything makes sense; I can’t explain why, I just know that I want to do it._

Emanuel found her looking over one of the prospectives. “Which one is that?” He peered over her shoulder. “Ah, Charlotte Baum. Yes. She hasn’t skated before. When I tested her, she didn’t know much more than how to stay upright.”

“What did you think of her?”

“Well…she listened. I liked her. I believe she can learn, but she’s certainly less experienced than all the rest.” His hand alighted on her shoulder. “What caught your eye?”

Esther set the file down. “I know her.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Her family goes to the synagogue. They came to my exhibition, before Barcelona.”

“She never mentioned that.”

A small smile touched her. “She probably wanted to earn her place, not get in based on knowing me.”

Emanuel went thoughtfully silent. “What would you say about her?”

Esther set the file down. “She was shy, at first. Her parents were the first to welcome me to my first service. They had to nudge her to get her to say hello to me, but by the time oneg rolled around, she was telling me everything from what she was doing at school to which Torah reading she's doing for her bat mitzvah. She's already practicing, two years ahead of time.” She looked down at the answer to her question: _I always loved skating. It’s my favorite part of the winter. I ask my parents to go almost twice a week. I didn’t know you could skate like that, until I saw Esther._

Emanuel patted her shoulder. She could hear the smile in his voice: “Well, if she comes so highly-recommended…”

Esther turned. “I don’t want to tell you who you should take--”

He waved a hand. “Nonsense. I asked for your input. You speak well of this girl. She’s a bit of a long shot, but then, so were you. Sometimes, it behooves us to be lucky.”

Slowly, she set Charlotte’s paperwork back down, feeling a slow smile overtake her at the thought of sharing her rink with her; as she considered, once again, how fortune must have smiled on her. “I suppose it does.” She scanned, again, over the names on the short list, and debated with herself before she decided to ask the question.

“Have you thought about taking on men?”

He didn’t say anything right away. _There’s my answer, then._

“There have certainly been male applicants. I would say some even show promise. I’m just not certain that I’m the right one to coach them.”

Esther leaned on the edge of the table and folded her arms, found him furrowing his brow and refusing to meet her eyes. “What makes you say that? In some ways--in a lot of ways--coaching me is more like coaching a male skater.”

He shook his head. “It’s not so much the skater as the event. In some ways--in a lot of ways--women’s singles is more familiar to me than men’s. I’m not certain that I…I don’t know.”

 _But what do you want?_ Esther thought of asking, but something not quite remembered was hovering on the edge of memory, staying her tongue.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Of course. At any rate, the rest of the day is yours. We fly tomorrow.”

She squared her shoulders. “We certainly do.” Back to Boston. Back to where it had all begun, and from there, into the unknown. She started towards the hall, passing her medals on the way--all they’d won together so far, and the bronze medal that had brought them together--and turned at the threshold. “Emanuel?”

He’d taken up some of the packets again, but he looked up at the sound of his name. “Yes?”

“I’m glad we’re doing this together.” For every word, there were a thousand more left unsaid, but she had the feeling that speaking any more would diminish her intent. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to articulate all the things that were in her heart.

By the look in his eyes, he seemed to have understood her. “I am too.”


	2. Chuenchai

At this point, it was practically a tradition: Esther had barely woken up on her first morning in Boston when there was a knock at her door, announcing Phichit and a giddy Chuenchai, who wasted no time in throwing surprisingly strong arms around her. “Come on, we’re going to breakfast!” they bundled up and walked four blocks to a coffee shop, not dissimilar from the one she and Otabek had once frequented. They were, after all, in the heart of the North End--TD Garden wasn’t far from the hotel, and the Freedom Trail bent southeast to the Old North Church in the opposite direction.

She checked her phone on the way, knowing full well that she wouldn’t find anything new; she took a moment to tap out a quick explanation of her whereabouts to Emanuel, before she opened her conversation with Otabek. The newest contribution was still his picture from the previous night (perhaps, more accurately, earlier that morning)--he looked like hell, and the harsh hotel room lamplight probably didn’t help things, but he’d managed a small, tired smile, sent it along with a message that said, simply,  _ made it.  _ It had been enough to make her heart swell with warmth, for it to have been the first thing she woke up to.

_ God, I really have turned into one of those people.  _ She laughed, briefly, through her nose, pocketed her phone again. Otabek was probably dead to the world still, and she’d resolved to let him rest through the morning. They would have time--precious little, far less than she would like--but time, nonetheless.

In a satisfying parallel to their first meeting in Chicago, Leo and Guang-Hong were already waiting for them. Esther noted, with satisfaction, how Leo had to let go of Guang-Hong’s hand to give her a hug. She gave him a knowing look when he let her go, and in return, he offered one that was too suffused with bashful happiness to carry any sort of heat.

_ I wonder if that’s what I look like. _

They talked, about where they’d been and what they’d done; the things that didn’t go on their social media accounts, but that they all wanted to hear about; the things they had planned. They took a picture, of course, captioned  _ skate america squad reunion,  _ though that was to say nothing of how quickly the eponymous group chat had lost its original name.

It was after they’d all settled back into their seats that Esther caught sight of Chuenchai, pressing a not-so-platonic kiss to the corner of Phichit’s mouth. “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” she teased, arching an eyebrow as she reached for her tea. “And no, an Instagram status doesn’t count as telling everyone.”

“It does too,” Chai retorted, her unimpressive frowny face made even less effective by Phichit feeding her coffee cake.

With a fond roll of her eyes, Esther sipped at her Russian caravan, and let Guang-Hong tell them about the New Year, just a little more than a month past.

“You’re not really mad, are you?” Chai asked her, as they walked back.

“What? No. I was just giving you a hard time. It was a cute post. Did you guys really get married in grade school?”

She giggled. “We made rings out of flower stems.”

Esther shook her head and smiled.

“You know,” Chai spoke, as they neared the hotel, “You’re actually the reason me and Phichit got together.”

It was the sort of information that landed without surprise and without recognition--something unexpected, but not entirely outlandish. “How so?”

“When I called you, after the Rostelecom Cup? You said you thought we were together.”

“Yeah,” she said, chuckling, “And you denied it, about eight times.”

“Yeah. Well...we...may or may not have had a talk after he came home…”

“Are you serious? You two got together, literally hours after that phone call?”

“What, did you think I was lying to you?”

“No.” Esther shook her head, grinning. “Maybe.”

“You’re the worst!” Chai pushed at her side, and succeeded in budging her a half-pace. “You aren’t, though. Not really. I was the one who was lying to myself. Obsessing over Seung-gil, so I didn’t have to think about how in love with my best friend I was. Have been. For years, maybe. Just...thanks for calling me out.”

“Well...you’re welcome. Even if I didn’t know I was doing it.” They continued in silence, for a little while. “So, what  _ does  _ your boyfriend think about your thing for Seung-gil?”

Nothing could have prepared her for the grin that Chai flashed over her shoulder. “He can’t really complain, when he has a thing for him too.”

For half a second, Esther stopped short. “You’re  _ kidding _ .” She took off again, walking double-time to catch up with Chai, now cackling and approaching a jog.


	3. JJ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting to write this scene for such a long time.

There were moments, now and again, where Esther would do something and proceed to forget about it, until it came back to her later in a strange, butterfly-effect sort of way. This was not one of those moments, though by all rights, it could have been. Anyone else might’ve looked at that moment during the banquet in Barcelona as a measure of politeness; decency, even, perhaps kindness, if they were feeling particularly generous. In the end, it hadn’t been more than a heartbeat in the life of the evening: the time it took for her to tug lightly on Otabek’s elbow and incline her head in the direction of Jean-Jacques Leroy, alone save for his fiancee, ask a question she knew the answer to (“You two trained together, didn’t you?”), make a request that she knew he wouldn’t refuse her (“Introduce us.”).

She’d held on to Otabek’s arm as he brought her to him, made polite small talk (“Hello, Jean, Isabella; it’s good to see you again, how are you?”). His former rinkmate still looked exhausted, in that particular panic-attack way, and moreover, what little of him was present seemed wary of them. Otabek had done as she’d asked (“This is Esther Markowitz.”)

“Your performance this season has been so impressive,” she’d said, struggling to find words that were encouraging without being intrusive. “Watching you has been inspiring.”

She’d imagined, for half a moment, that she saw a spark of...something, in his eyes. She couldn’t be sure, and his fiancee had steered him politely away not long after that. Esther hadn’t seen him since, but she had never really forgotten--it was hard not to recall something that had struck so close to her heart.

And so, when she caught sight of him across Faneuil Hall, she wasn’t really surprised--not that she saw him in the first place, nor that he joined her a moment later. “Hey! You’re out sightseeing too?”

“In a fashion,” she replied, hands tucked safely in her pockets from the wind. “I used to live here, before I moved out from Luxembourg.”

“That’s right. Otabek used to talk about you all the time, you know. Not as much, since he went back to Almaty...kinda lost touch.” He shrugged, the movement too jerky to be truly sincere. “You know how it is.”

She gave him a curious, sidelong look. “Yeah. I do.” She peered over her shoulder. “Are you here by yourself?”

He shook his head. “Nah, Bella’s checking out some of the shops.” His eyes swiveled from one street performer to the next, restless as the tapping of his foot.

Esther smiled. “This was one of my favorite places, when I lived here. I came through a lot. They knew me by name at the ice cream place. It’s a bit cold for that yet, but otherwise I’d highly recommend it.”

JJ puffed at a flyaway strand of hair, flashed her a cocky grin. “Please, I’m Canadian. The cold doesn’t scare me.”

Esther narrowed her eyes, though she didn’t bother stifling the twitch at the corner of her mouth. “Compared to my latitude, this is practically balmy.” She turned for the market building. “In that case, follow me,” she said, over her shoulder.

As it turns out, they still knew her by name. She ordered a single scoop of mint chocolate chip, and JJ, of course, went for a double; something red on top, and something chocolate on the bottom. They sat outside, on a bench that quickly numbed her, and watched the people go by--rather, she watched the people go by while he talked. He certainly had plenty of stories to share; memories of the time where he, Leo, and Otabek had all shared the same ice. He told her about his family: about Isabella, his parents and brothers and sisters and veritable army of aunts, uncles, and cousins, the old dog named Bear that had been with him for as long as he could remember--

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” he said, departing suddenly from the recollection of his younger sister’s most recent hockey game.

Esther turned to him. Her cup was long since empty, and she’d taken to squeezing the sides as a manner of busying her hands. “No. I like hearing about your family.” Somehow, learning that someone could come from a loving environment and still have her problems was...reassuring, in a strange way.  _ Maybe it doesn’t matter that I had shitty parents, I still would have been like this, it still would have been this way…  _ Beyond that, though, it was just...nice to hear. She wasn’t sure why she cared so much, but knowing he had a happy home did her some good.

“Okay. I just...I know I can be obnoxious, sometimes.” He’d looked down at the ground; his fingers played restlessly against each other. “I don’t always know…”

“Don’t worry about it.” She knew the rest of his train of thought by heart. “I get it. And...I promise I’ll be honest with you.” He looked at her, still unsure; she smiled. “So what did she do after that guy yelled at her?”

“Well,” he started, slowly, but seemed to gain confidence from her attentive silence. “She ignored him, actually. That  _ really  _ pissed him off; he got up and went down, smacked the glass panel so hard it  _ broke _ .”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! So then--this is what she told me, anyway--she and the guy’s kid are the next ones at the face-off, and just before the puck drops, she looks him dead in the eye and says ‘hey, your Dad is an asshole’--”

Isabella found them some time later, bags on her arm, sitting on the bench and laughing. “She sounds a lot like you.”

Esther fancied his chest might’ve actually swelled up with pride, but she could hear the truth of it in his voice when he spoke. “Yeah, that’s what being the big brother’s all about. They all try to be just like you.” He stood and held out his hands. “Here, let me take those.” Isabella acquiesced to giving him one arm’s worth.

“Esther, I didn’t know you were here too,” she spoke, after obtaining a peck on the lips from her fiance, demonstrating a remarkable ability to remember the name of someone she’d spoken to for five minutes several months prior.  _ Holy shit, is she put together. I don’t think I’ve ever seen lipstick that immaculate. He’s not so bad either. Just wait ‘til they start having kids. _

She managed a shrug. “I was in the neighborhood. We caught each other.”

JJ handed Isabella the ice cream--the scoop of chocolate was untouched, and though she complained that it was too cold, she smiled.

“Well, I guess we’ll be getting on our way now.” JJ said, once he could bear to tear his eyes off his fiancee for half a second. Esther wondered, again, if that was what she looked like. “Is Otabek around? I haven’t seen him.”

“He’s with Yuri right now,” she replied. “We’re meeting up this evening.”

“Really? You should join us for dinner!” A brief flash of anxiety crossed his features, but it faded when his brief glance at Isabella yielded a nod and a smile.

“I’d like that. It’s been such a long time.”

A few months ago, Esther would have promised to ask him, and nothing more. Now, she opened up her contacts page and handed her phone over. “Here. Put yourself in, I can do the same for you. Let me know what kind of thing you’re in the mood for tonight. I know all the good spots.”

“Oh!” Isabella actually looked excited.  _ Fuck, she’s cute.  _ “Speaking of that...you wouldn’t happen to know the best way to get to the  _ Constitution _ , would you?”

“The  _ Constitution _ ? Well, she’s just over the bridge, that way. Follow the Freedom Trail. It’s thirty minutes or so, on foot. If you wanted to take the T, you could hop on at Haymarket up ahead and ride the Orange line outbound until Community College, but it’d end up being about the same. It might be different if you take the bus, but I don’t know that off the top of my head. You’d have to look it up.”

“Okay. Thanks so much! We’ll see you later!” she started away, and JJ made to follow her, though he paused and turned back.

“I want to thank you,” he said, quickly. “For what you said in Barcelona. I was really out of it, then, but it meant a lot to me. To hear that.”

She had a feeling there would be years for them, to come to understand just how much it meant for each of them. “Don’t mention it. You should probably get going, before you lose her. She’s worth hanging on to.”

JJ looked over his shoulder, located Isabella’s retreating back with a grin. “See you later!” he left her with an exuberant wave, one that Esther returned with a small, warm smile.

“Sure will.”


	4. Yuri

That he tracked her down at the street park by the water certainly couldn’t be a coincidence. She checked her phone on a hunch and smiled at the text from Leo.  _ Watch out, Ice Tiger headed your way. ;) _

_ You wouldn’t have happened to tell him where to find me, would you?  _ She’d heard about Leo’s part in the misadventure with the exhibition in Barcelona directly from the man himself, not long after the initial fuss of it had died down.

_ Believe it or not, it isn’t me this time. Ask your boyfriend. _

Though that said nothing for why Leo was the one informing her.  _ You know, it’s probably a good thing you two live a world away,  _ she sent him,  _ the rest of us would get no sleep otherwise.  _ She pocketed her phone, turned and faced the boy, now leaning on the railing not far from her. If she didn’t know better, she would say he’d come to look at the water too.

“Your short program is tonight,” she said.

“I know that,” he replied, somewhat shortly.

“I should hope so. I’m sure you realize I was just looking for a way to get you to talk.”

Yuri whipped around and gave her something that might have passed for an evil eye, if she was at all intimidated by him. “You’re not my mother. Okay? I’ve made it this far without one. I don’t need a mother, and I definitely don’t want you to try.”

Esther held guarded green eyes, took in the thin chest as it softly heaved.

She turned back to the water. “I’m not trying to be your mother.” A sound escaped her, one she would almost call a chuckle. Relief? She couldn’t even be sure.

When he spoke, he sounded sulky; perhaps he’d taken her response for her laughing at him. “In Ostrava. All of that…” he made a frustrated noise.

“That was me, looking out for you. It’s what I do, for people I care about.”

The look Yuri gave her reminded her of a cat, ready to swipe at an outstretched hand. “I don’t need you to  _ look out  _ for me. I’m not a kid.”

_ You are,  _ she thought, but saying so would only drive him away now. He was too young to appreciate the truth. Perhaps, one day, he would understand it--no matter what he might have been through, what he might have suffered, he was a child still, one too old for his years (hell, she was hardly more than a child herself)--but today wasn’t that day.

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want, but there’s nothing you can do to stop me from giving a shit.”

“Why do you care, anyway?” he snapped. “You don’t know me. You only think you do, because you’re dating Otabek.”

“You think someone being important to someone I care about isn’t enough of a reason?” she asked, and received only silence.

She expected him to leave, push off from the rail and stalk off with his shoulders hunched and his hands in his pockets, but he lingered in the tension of their wordlessness, directing his hard stare somewhere across the deep, dark blue of the Charles.

“I admire you, you know,” Esther spoke. Yuri didn’t say anything, but she could feel his eyes. “I don’t know how much you know of my senior debut. I won Worlds my last year in Juniors, same as you. Came onto the Senior Grand Prix circuit at fifteen and crashed hard. It all culminated with a literal breakdown on the ice at Nationals. I walked out, and I didn’t come back until this year. For you to debut at fifteen, the same age I was when I did, and to hold up as well as you have--not just that, but to take silver at the Grand Prix final...it’s admirable. Talent only takes you so far. For you to make it speaks to drive, dedication; a lot of other things that you aren’t just born with. So, I admire you.”

It was a long time before he said anything. When he did, his voice was so small, she nearly missed it. “You do?”

“Yeah. I do.”  _ Is that so hard to believe? _

Her back pocket buzzed, and she read over the incoming message before sending off her reply. Yuri, thankfully, stayed around until Nava approached, flanked by a Japanese boy who looked to be about her age, possibly older. “Hey, Nava. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Kenjirou,” she said, quickly.  _ Is it just cold, or is that a blush I see?  _ “It’s his first Worlds too.”

“Esther Markowitz,” she extended her hand, “Nice to meet you.” Japanese came easier these days; she got much more use out of it, talking to Yuuri.

“Minami Kenjirou,” he clarified, as they shook, a little wide-eyed.  _ And she’s already calling you by your given name, huh? _

“Well, I didn’t want to tell you over text; I feel like those always feel like blowing somebody off. Something just came up, I’ve got to go meet my coach. Yuri, I hope you won’t mind filling in for me.”

“I.” For once, Yuri looked about his age; young and adrift.

“You should come along,” Nava said, beaming. “We can catch up. It feels like it’s been ages since Juniors.”

Esther gave him a brief look. He returned it, briefly, let out a small breath. “All right.”

“Have fun, you guys.” Esther headed off in the opposite direction, back towards TD Garden and the hotel. She checked over her shoulder, just to make sure they were all on their way, and faced ahead grinning.

_ I wonder if Emanuel would take sushi for a fake emergency. _


	5. Leah

Esther exited the ice to the applause of the crowd, skating into the kiss and cry with the feeling that she’d just made a new personal best. Five minutes later, she’d done just that; broken her own record for the fifth-highest ladies’ short program score, and taken the lead for the event to boot. It held until the end of the night, and she conducted her interviews with as much grace as she could muster, keeping in mind that she had tomorrow completely free.

“You can go ahead, if you’d like. I’ll only be a moment.” He’d given her the option, but Esther had elected to stay; and so, Emanuel left her in the lobby, holding both of their coats and awaiting his return. That was where her mother found her, meeting her eyes only when she had drawn too close for Esther to be able to claim not seeing her before moving off.

“Esther.”

“Mother.”

She fell in beside her, and at any other time, Esther might have had to stifle a chuckle at how clandestine their meeting seemed; like an illicit meet-up on some street corner, where money and various illegal substances would change hands.

“Quite the season you’ve had,” her mother said. Esther said nothing, just a small, acknowledging tip of the head. “I’m sure you realize it has its end.”

She’d grown long-used to these types of statements—the surprise came in just how little this one fazed her.

“You’ll be nineteen this year. Over the next few years, most of the peers in your age group will retire to make way for the younger girls.”

“Get to the point.”

“You’ve more than proven your capabilities.” Esther cast a sideways glance, and her mother finally deigned to look at her. “Finishing the season here must be fitting. What your father and I want to know is when you’ll be coming home.”

Esther held her eyes for a long, wordless moment.

She turned back to the lobby. “I don’t see him here.”

“Esther—”

“Like you said, I’m almost nineteen—at my last count, that’s a year more than eighteen, when most American youth are tossed unceremoniously out on their ass.” She inspected her nail beds. “I would’ve thought you’d like having the place to yourself. You could convert my room into a library, or a home gym. Do you miss the tax break I got you? Or are you running out of reasons to not get divorced?”

A faint scowl took place of the cool, neutral look that had permanently etched itself into her recollection, and it felt like such a victory that she kept pushing.

“Suzanne’s already on her way out. I’m just getting started, and if you’re bent out of shape about that, that’s your problem.”

Her mother folded her arms. “Your father and I used to think we were so lucky. Everyone else’s teenagers copped no end of an attitude, and you stayed just as reasonable as you’d always been. Who could’ve guessed you were saving the tantrum for your young adult years?”

Heat flashed under her skin, and it was only the reporters, swarming like wasps, that kept her from turning to.

“You always did think it was all about you,” she chuckled drily. “All this time, you thought I left, started training with Emanuel, got back on the competitive circuit, all to get back at you for some slight that I obviously must have imagined, because there’s no way you ever could’ve done anything wrong.” She shook her head. “I guess I can see where you might’ve gotten that. That ‘reasonable’ teenager you remember? You kept such a tight leash on me, it wasn’t until I left skating and didn’t get struck by lightning on the spot that I realized you didn’t run the world. Coming back was my choice; the first one I’ve ever made for myself. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. And if you really cared about me as more than your trophy, you would be able to understand that.”

Unsure of where the flood of words had come from, she lapsed into silence. Her hands trembled faintly, and she wondered whether she wanted some kind of reply, what it might even be. But her mother said nothing, didn’t even look at her, just walked away. Esther took a long, slow breath, exhaled shakily and rubbed the heel of her hand beneath her eyes.

A moment later, Emanuel found her. “Are you all right?”

She looked at him. “Yeah,” she offered a small smile. “Just tired, that’s all.”

He nodded. “All right. Let’s get back, then.”


	6. Otabek

There was something intoxicatingly romantic, Esther thought, about revisiting all of their old haunts, hand-in-hand, pressing close, content in the certainty that they were reliving all of the same memories.

“We should go back to the bakery,” she said. “See if they remember us. I bet you they were rooting for us to get together the whole time.”

“Hm.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He’d been quieter than usual, even for him, and she hadn’t pushed him on it yet, not over dinner, not on their walk, but her curiosity was beginning to bubble over.

“Hey.” She tugged at his hand, stopping next to a small plaza that looked out over the harbor. “What’s on your mind? You look like you’ve been mulling something over all day.”

Otabek looked up suddenly, almost startled: he took in the water, the setting sun, and pulled her towards the rail. “Come here.”

“Okay,” she laughed, humoring him. “All right, here I am. Now tell me what’s up.”

Otabek smiled at her, lifted his hand to the side of her face. It was a look that Esther couldn’t quite help but return, blushing and closing her eyes to turn and kiss his palm. “I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“Back at you,” she mumbled, flushing darker, wishing (not for the last time) that she had his way with words. They were few, but he always made them count.

“I worried,” he admitted, “At first. About what would happen, when you kissed me. If it wouldn’t work out, and things wouldn’t have ever been the same between us. But, loving you is the most natural thing I’ve ever done. I’m glad I never stopped.” He rubbed his nose against hers, she allowed it with a sheepish giggle.

“I’m glad I finally wised up,” she said, softly, stretching up on her toes to kiss him properly.

“I have something for you,” he told her, when they could bear to let each other go. He stuck a hand into his pocket. “It’s not an engagement ring,” he said, quickly, a moment before he passed her the small velvet box.

Her breath left her in a rush. “Good thing you told me beforehand,” she chuckled, opening it. “Oh. Beka…”

Not an engagement ring, but no less a ring—an elegant gold band set with two small stones, one red and one white. “This one’s ruby,” he pointed at the darker one, “For July; your birthstone. And this is an opal. The light’s a bit low, but—it’s for October. Here.” Esther let him take the box back, held out her hand and watched as he slid the ring onto her finger.

“So…if it’s not an engagement ring,” she said, tilting it this way and that to admire it, “What is it, exactly?”

“It’s a promise ring. It’s too early for us to get married, but…someday, I want us to. So, if you feel the same, this is my promise to you.”

Esther nodded. _I’m glad one of us is thinking with their head on straight…_ If he’d proposed outright, she probably wouldn’t have thought twice about accepting. She realized was keeping him waiting, threw her arms around his neck and whispered, “Thank you, Beka, it’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he murmured back, and Esther stood in his arms for a moment longer, trying to figure out what was on the tip of her tongue.

She figured it out, at last, as he let her go. “You know, people are going to…see this.”

He nodded, hinting at a smile. “I know.”

“So, does that mean…”

“Yeah.”

“I can shout from the rooftops about how stupidly in love with you I am?”

He grinned at her. “Not if I do it first.”

She laughed, pulled out her phone and handed it to him. “Here, longer arms. Take a picture.” They pressed close—Esther made sure to slide her left hand onto his shoulder and fit the ring into frame. “I love you,” she said, right before he snapped the first picture, and kissed him for the second.

Later, looking at the photos as she posted them, she wondered if she’d ever seen a smile from him that was quite so blinding.

“My phone blew up,” she said, the next morning, scrolling through the flood of notifications.

“Mm, join the club,” Otabek rolled over and showed her his.

She chuckled, set it back on the bedside table and wriggled back into his arms.

“You want to go to breakfast?”

“Hm, later,” she sighed, poking him in the ribs. “You were starting to tell me something last night.”

“Was I?”

“Yeah. You were talking about next season, I went to take a shower, and by the time I came back out you were half-asleep.”

“Oh.” He sounded sheepish. She hid her smile in his t-shirt.

“So, what’s up?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure if it’s something I can talk through.”

“Try.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m thinking it might be time to look for a new coach.”

She slid back to face him. “Things not working out with Lee?”

“No, they’re fine, it’s just…they’re _fine_. I can’t deny that I’ve definitely gotten places with him. I guess I’m feeling a little stagnant.”

“Hm.” She blinked, felt the gears start to turn in her head.

“I guess I’m not really sure where to go from here.”

Esther tugged on his shirt, drawing his eyes. “Let’s go get breakfast.”

“I thought you wanted to go later,” he teased.

“That was me five minutes ago, she doesn’t know anything. Are you gonna shower?”

“Yeah. I won’t take long.”

“Don’t lie, we both know you’ll be in there fussing with your hair for fifteen minutes.” She turned her face, let him peck her cheek and waited until he was in the bathroom to reach for her phone.

A half hour later, as they walked into the restaurant that Esther had conveniently picked out while he was getting ready, she provided no explanation for her boyfriend or her coach, both who looked surprised and somewhat leery about the other’s presence—not until they’d all sat down and been given their menus. “Beka, Emanuel. I thought you two should meet each other; you might have a lot to discuss.”


End file.
